Each day during the month of April, KUOW is highlighting the work of Seattle-based poets for National Poetry Month. In this series, curated by Seattle Civic Poet and Ten Thousand Things host Shin Yu Pai, you'll find a selection of poems for the mind, heart, senses, and soul.
T
he Bureau of Fearless Ideas (BFI) is one large classroom on the ground floor of the Yesler Terrace complex, a multi-use housing development in Beacon Hill. The walls are packed with language – words, rhymes, and creative affirmations. It's here that Roberto Ascalon, the poet in residence, is a mentor to new poets.
Pai had Ascalon read his poem, "Nights on Beacon Hill." He says the work was inspired by Lynda Barry's "One! Hundred! Demons!" and the first cul-de-sac he lived on in Seattle.
"It's a way for me to place myself here, because I'm not from here," said Ascalon. "I'm from New York City. I didn't have a cul-de-sac growing up. But I did live in a tall apartment building. I didn't engage with a lot of kids in my neighborhood. And it seems like there are always pockets, beautiful pockets of childhood that you can find."
Beacon Hill
Those nights
we danced
on hot gravel.
Wiffle ball
bat-smack homerun
put you in the Johnson driveway. Turnin’
third, at full speed, meant you gotta
jump over, like, ten miles of pricker bushes fat
with blackberries.
Those nights Levi and James
would always try to sell stuff. Stupid stuff.
Shit like, used batteries, busted tape cassettes
half off dry cleaning coupons, magic rocks –
to Old Mrs. Tran, who lived down at the condos, the new
ones, with the built-in, wrap-around porches. Half the time
she’d just chase ‘em down the block swingin a broomstick handle.
The other half of the time she’d give ‘em kisses
full tumblers of ice cold Tang, buy whatever
they were selling
all depending, on whether or not Mr. Tran
had visited the racetrack, or, the liquor store that week.
Broomstick, or not, it was well worth the risk. At least for us.
The dark blue bruises
that came up twenty minutes later had always got Jenny Lee
to pee her pants laughing. That way, we busted
on three people, all night long.
On those nights we threw itchy balls
at the cross eyed cats by the cul-de-sac
because we hated them, we hated them, we
hated the way they stared blank and bitter
at anyone on our side of the cyclone fence.
We ate otter pops bought from the 7-11,
stole beer from Mario’s dad’s basement fridge
crept way down along the parkside
by the dumpster, get glassy eyed to
the torn covers of magazines.
We’d walk north, for close to an hour,
just to get to Greg’s pool, the one where
if you were brave enough, you could jump
from the branch of the dying oak
the one that broke the night
Fat Paul tried to do, like
five hundred pull-ups, in like
four minutes.
Those nights we’d tease
Shermin, sing Shermin the Vermin
from behind the old rhododendron bushes
till the one day his mom threw boiling water
at all of us and nearly blinded poor Lisa Randall.
Those nights we’d try
for hours and hours
and hours and hours
trying to make fire with two sticks, Indian style
We’d try to make light. With nothing.
Nothing but ourselves.
Our green, young
selves.
Pai and Ascalon were later joined by Yasmin Mohammed, a former student at the BFI. She read her poem, "Untitled," about her experience immigrating to the United States from Eritrea.
"When Covid-19 hit, I was in a mood of depression, where all the flashbacks of me escaping my country came," said Mohammed. "Then I was like, let me write it down."
You can hear the full segment, with readings from Roberto Ascalon and Yasmin Mohammed, by clicking "play" on the audio above.
My name is Yasmin Mohammed
I was born and raised
In a country called Eritrea
Of the nine ethnic groups
I am from the Tigre
I am from the Regebat and Bet asgeda tribe
I am from Akelet — rego to hesas
I am from a culture
Where people are the main page
Of every chapter
I am from respect
to be respected culture
I am from the culture where
Where people and culture is like
Water and sunlight for a flower
My love for this culture
Is like numbers
There is no limit
Life being life
One day
I left my water and sunlight
For a better future and education
I escaped my country
To the other side of the world
America
Where I face
new water and new sunlight
You see
I grew up in a culture
Where saying “I am tired”
Felt selfish because
everyone else just
Endures the pain
I grew up in a culture
Where being mentally unstable
Was seen as “crazy”
But now I’m in a new culture
Where to say “I am tired, am stressed, am depressed”
Isn’t weakness
I grew up in a culture
Where “endure it”
Was the answer to pain
Talk it out
Speak it out
To get rid of the pain
That is inside you
They said
I couldn’t relate
Or should I say
I couldn’t imagine
how that might work
For a year
I left a distance between me
And speaking out my pain
I endured harsh words
my first year of high school in America
harsh words about
my skin color
my religion
my face
the way I dress
I endured them
I endured the pain
of adapting to a new place
a new country —
The way I endured the trauma
Of escaping my birth country
I endured to the point
my memories became
flashbacks, I endured
Until
my flashbacks
became nightmares,
I endured until
my nightmares
became depression
I endured it all
To the point that
I couldn’t endure it anymore
That is when I moved to a community
Called Yesler Terrace where organizations
come together to help the community and the youth
Where
for only the third time in my life
I wrote poetry about
what I have been through
I asked Mr. Roberto to read it
I was surprised by how he was surprised
It was new for me
I felt touched
By how he acknowledged my pain
And my accomplishments
The emotion I felt
in the moment was so strong
it allowed me to imagine a different world___________
A world where
There are people who acknowledge my pain
There are people who don’t expect me to endure it all
There are people who are willing to listen to my story
I can now say to myself: “Imagine that you are fearless…”
Imagine
I am fearless
When I say I am in pain
I am fearless
When they call me crazy
I am fearless
When my people say
I failed to endure the pain
I am fearless in the face of what others think about me
I can imagine a world
Where people
believe
that talking about,
writing about,
speaking about
my pain is
Is just one of
my big strengths.
I can imagine a world
Where there are people who think
I am strong enough
To do it
Do it with me…
imagine a world
Where I am unafraid to start loving myself
Where we are all unafraid to love ourselves
A world where we all become fearless.
